I recently watched an episode of Finding Your Roots, with guests Nathan Lane and Leslie Odom, Jr. As they often do, the storylines and research encounter twists and turns and dead ends, along with emotional discoveries and a realization that we are all products of generations who have come before, often standing on the shoulders of giants, or something less dramatic than that.

The guests will often try to sum things up at the end, after the big scroll containing the family tree is rolled out and some blanks are filled in, knowledge is gained about relatives these people didn’t know they had—people who came from all over the world, from places and situations both expected and unexpected.

Nathan Lane summed things up by saying something like, “Isn’t this what America is all about? Isn’t this who and what we are—a nation of people who have come from somewhere else dreaming of a better life?”

And I got to thinking about Donald Trump, of all people, and how ugly and unappreciative he is, willingly clueless about America and what America means to the people he so offhandedly declares to be scum and who must be sent back to where they’ve come from.

And, as maddening as it was to be reminded of such a twit, I realized that to vote him into office for another four years would not only add insult to injury, but would also be irresponsibly myopic and even sinful. It would be a vote for ignoring a glaring reality: that America is in no small part what it is because of the very people who Trump so little values. These are people who have traversed oceans and mountains, who have left behind oppression and persecution in hopes of finding some peace, of having a chance to actually live in a place that appreciates them and, if necessary, helps them get on their feet so they can thrive and find their happiness.

These are the people who are motivated to excel and contribute, and who know and love America so much more than the native born, provincial idiots like Trump who choose not to see.

The Tunkhannock Viaduct, also called the Nicholson Bridge, in Nicholson, PA, is a behemoth of a structure that looms large as one drives north on State Route 11. According to the front page article in the November 6, 1915 afternoon edition of the Scranton Times, it was touted as the greatest concrete bridge in the world (and would remain so for 50 years, according to Wickipedia).

It is an impressive thing to see, and might take drivers by surprise as it comes into view. It served and still serves the purpose of shortening the rail route between Scranton, PA and Binghamton, NY by 3.6 miles. The rail bed itself (two tracks) is 240 feet above Tunkhannock Creek, 300 feet above bedrock. It was built by the Delaware, Lackawanna and Western Railroad, an expanse of 2375 feet, using 1140 tons of reinforced steel, 167,000 cubic yards of concrete, weighing in at 670,000,000 pounds. Begun in 1912, completed in 1915, and currently owned by Norfolk Southern Railway.

All this while smaller type revealed that Germany was sinking British, French, and Italian vessels in the early days of WWI.

It trumps not going there, that forbidden space where no one can say anything bad about Israel without incurring the wrath of those who would shout “antisemite!”

Eradicating Hamas is a fool’s errand, and in the process of trying to do it, Netanyahu has taken on the persona of an ogre who listens to no one, while thousands of Gazans face unimaginable hardships and loss. They have next to nothing to live on or return to.

Civilians are the victims of a cowardly Hamas tactic that has made it difficult for the Israelis to be “surgical” and instead leads to merciless, indiscriminate bombing and shelling and horrendous injury and destruction.

I have to believe that much of the protesting has been because of Israel’s relentless response that has shifted in perception from righteously retaliatory to heinously excessive. I’m not sure where the flag-waving, pro-Palestinian voices come from. Perhaps it is because there still exists a segment of the population who will always be irrationally suspicious of Jews. Or perhaps its ranks are growing because of an innate human response to the suffering of the Gazan people.

Either way, people are growing more familiar with what they’re looking at, and the plight of Gazan civilians is looking more and more like blatant cruelty.

I recently played in a golf tournament that we’ve played in for three years running now. I love the sense of anticipation and optimism with which we always start a round. You have a tendency to feel like this is the day we go low.

Turned out that wasn’t the case this time around. We struggled mightily. We could get to the green most times with a shot at birdie, but usually had long putts. We each had two mulligans and ended up using the last three on the last hole to try and get an eagle, but to no avail. Golf is hard.

Personally, I have no reason to get mad about any aspect of my game—this was the second time I played in 2024. Still great to be out, though, to be with friends, get some relatively fresh air and exercise. And there’s always the hope that maybe next time will be the time we put it all together.

*or yellow, or blue, or pink, or red

Political discourse in this country, of late—well, really since Trump landed in a heap on our doorstep—might be characterized as rough around the edges, lacking in substance.

OK… uncivil and immature, pants-on-fire, loud, accusatory, rapid-fire mindlessness.

I guess other nations have had worse moments, but ours has been one long slog since Trump made his grand entrance back in 2015. Think about that moment—DJT and Melania descending as if from on high, coming to earth to grace our presence and cure our ills. What a huge record scratch, a choreographed joke.

Fast forward to the present and what we see is a 78-year-old tyrant toddler who has lost his grip on reality. He’s got zero business being included in the conversation for POTUS, yet he’s still here. Still fucking here! We have to let it play out and try not to panic, play the long game, do whatever we can to throw our own share of sand in the gears of the Republican plan to grease the skids for Stop the Steal 2.0.

Planting election deniers on local election boards, compounding the lies, telling us we’re not seeing what we’re seeing, implementing Project 2025– it’s all in the service of a grotesque, medieval government takeover, and another round of delays and lawsuits and misdirection. And trying to keep the 78-year-old dictator wannabe out of jail.

It’s as if they’ve already lost, without even minimal effort at hammering out a legitimate platform. For Trump and the co-opted Republican party, it’s never been about capable governance. It’s simply about leverage, and a power grab.

Don’t go for it, White Male Base. Don’t buy it. Whatever it was that happened last night in the Musk/Trump interview, treat it as the softball-lobbing stunt that it was. Blatant damage control, an attempt at salvaging a reputation and a campaign that are way beyond salvageable.

The antique leopard is unable to change his spots. Trump is and will be what he has always been.

And who the hell does Elon Musk think he is, anyway? Why, just another massive ego wielding his “power.” Scary, but full of himself. Dumb and dissonant, with the usual patina of genius.

It’s a sad and pathetic situation. The Republicans seem to be digging themselves a hole by keeping their hats in the Trump ring. Donald Trump appears only to be proving to anyone who hasn’t already noticed that he is the least qualified person in a long time to run for President.

The man obviously has some sort of inner fire burning, but many know it’s fueled by rage and vengeance. And fear. One might dare think that he could yet flame out before our eyes.

He doesn’t want the job because he cares about the country and the people who live in it. He wants the job because he sees it as his ticket to staying ahead of the jailer. Sadly, he’s somehow gotten this far, maintained some sort of undeserved “relevance,” so we have to keep dealing with him and the cast of misfits around him.

It’s somehow unsatisfying and infuriating to think that we’re once again faced with a choice of voting for Trump or someone whose main attribute is that they’re not Trump—as joyous and hopeful as the Harris ticket might seem. I hope Kamala and Tim can put their own stamp on this election, put some daylight between them and whatever it was that people found unappealing about Joe Biden. I hope they can survive the assault that’s coming from the Trump camp and Putin and Xi and Iran and whoever else is rooting for and working toward America’s implosion.

I hope that, someday, someone can summarize and record just how awful Trump was, how much damage he has wrought, how much doubt and poison he introduced, how much time he has forced us to waste. And I hope this same person, or persons, can happily write that, ultimately, even he and the whack jobs and billionaires who propped him up couldn’t prevail.

I hope that’s the ending to this current chapter.

A couple things… why the hell wasn’t Tim Walz’s military service more thoroughly vetted; and what’s left to consider regarding Trump’s fitness for office—any office, never mind POTUS?

Regarding Walz’s military service, why leave an opening for Republicans to pounce on? Yes, Walz served four years beyond the twenty required to receive full retirement benefits. But apparently overlooked or left out was the detail that he retired before his unit was due to deploy to Iraq.

Maybe he should have been more forthcoming in mentioning this instead of leaving it to the opposition to uncover and pick away at and turn into an issue of faux patriotism or cowardice on Walz’s part.

Walz had every right to retire, with honor and regardless of the timing, but he probably didn’t foresee that he’d be running for high office one day and his detractors would turn over every stone when it came to finding something to use as a black mark on his character.

Secondly, what more do we need to know about Donald Trump and his fitness for office? His go-to tactics are all grade school playground stuff, and he’s obviously got a fetish for crowd sizes.

Pronouncing Harris’s name wrong, on purpose; assigning her nicknames, at all—regardless of whether or not they’re ridiculous and unimaginative; his penchant for race-baiting; his vacuous wandering off topic at his sleazy and tedious rallies; his association with and respect for far-right conservative fascist wannabes and actual autocrats and dictators; his feeble efforts at distancing himself from Project 2025; his default mode of lying through his teeth; his 34 felony convictions, and criminal intent in multiple jurisdictions; his instigation of an insurrection; his heinous mishandling of a pandemic; his disregard for American history and institutions; his blatant ignorance, incompetence and coldness in any facet of governance, diplomacy, thoughtful service, or human interaction; his gargantuan ego; his stunning immaturity and lack of character; his age.

The list is partial.

What are we doing? Why is Donald Trump still in the news? We’re just feeding his need for attention, which should tell us all we need to know about his fitness for office. And then there’s the rest of the stuff.

Since when is “progressive” a pejorative term? Why is that? What’s wrong with being OK with, say, moving from fossil fuels to wind or solar energy, or opening a path for people to vote, or funding meal programs at schools, or making it possible for many more people to acquire health insurance, or following through on payments from Social Security that were, in the first place, paid into with the expectation of receiving financial sustenance once retired?

What’s so bad and scary about differing sexual identities, or simply caring for people who need a helping hand for a bit? Is “regressive” the logical opposite, the way to go? Backwards movement and neglect—is this the golden ring that we should be reaching for?

The height of irony, one could argue, is that those who critique progressive policy are often the vociferous “Christians” among us who apparently have a different understanding of what love is.

We should all be tired of being labeled. But I suppose if we downplayed certain words, we’d just come up with different ones.

Change is hard.

I’m never sure if the anger at a protest is real or just crowd energy, mob mentality, people playing mad but really only jumping on a bandwagon as an excuse to do something different with their day.

I’m sure there is a nucleus of anger, that it starts with a few people feeling compelled to protest and voice concerns. But often enough it seems to deteriorate into something less focused and reasonable, ending up as just another excuse to break things and get angry about any number of other grievances, both real and imagined.